


make you jump out of your skin

by jk_rockin



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Halloween, Infidelity, M/M, teenage douchebags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jk_rockin/pseuds/jk_rockin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even aside from the beer, Dave's feeling no pain; new school, new team, new start. Carmel's football team isn't that great, but that meant he made the team first try; Vocal Adrenaline's success makes bullying them ridiculous, so there's no shadow of his former habits hanging over his head. His new coach rides them just as hard as Bieste did. He's been so instantly liked—not feared, liked—that it's him, The New Guy, throwing the Halloween party this year.</p><p>And Kurt Hummel is at his party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make you jump out of your skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaddicusfinch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jaddicusfinch).



> This shameless porn-with-what-technically-counts-as-plot was written for the 2011 [Kurtofsky Secret Santa](http://kurtofsky-secret-santa.tumblr.com), for the prompt _biting, bottom!Dave, sexy fun after a Hallowe'en party at Dave's_ , as a gift for [Jad](http://jaddicusfinch.tumblr.com/). Title from _This Is Hallowe'en_ from _The Nightmare Before Christmas_. Yeah, I'm that girl.

Dave's a little drunk. He's not even drunk, he's, like—buzzed? Buzzed. Whatever, he's this side of a six pack, he's fine. He's at home and it's a party. He can be buzzed.

Even aside from the beer, Dave's feeling no pain; new school, new team, new start. Carmel's football team isn't that great, but that meant he made the team first try; Vocal Adrenaline's success makes bullying them ridiculous, so there's no shadow of his former habits hanging over his head. His new coach rides them just as hard as Bieste did. He's been so instantly liked—not feared, liked—that it's him, The New Guy, throwing the Halloween party this year.

And Kurt Hummel is at his party.

They've been Facebook friends since their run-in at Scandals; Kurt hasn't been back and they haven't talked or anything, but Dave keeps track of Kurt's status. He seems... sadder, kind of, and his smile looks more strained in every photo.

That strained smile, that's Dave's excuse for clicking Invite. Fuck it. Kurt could ignore it, could bring his asshole boyfriend, could show up and out him in front of everyone, but whatever he did, he wouldn't be smiling like that. Like smiling makes him tired. The Might Attend had been nice. Then he showed up at Dave's door, no boyfriend in sight, and Dave thought his heart was gonna beat out of his chest.

He regrets nothing. Most of the team are here, all their girlfriends, some cheerleaders, even some glee club kids. His house is full of people who think he's cool or like his beer enough not to care, and Kurt Hummel is in his house, watching Dave be popular and well-liked. This is awesome.

Dave takes a swig of his beer. Actually, this might not be so awesome, now he thinks about it. Kurt's sitting in the corner, clutching a bottle—that's, huh, Dave thought he didn't drink—watching Dave's friends drink crappy beer and play Twister in their half-assed Halloween costumes. He looks kind of wistful. Inviting him along was an impulse. He doesn't remember what he was thinking then, but now, Kurt being sad in his living room is the last thing he wants.

He moseys over, careful not to step on Dougie the wide receiver, who's cuddling with the coffee table. Kurt scoots along the window seat obligingly, giving him room to sit down.

"Aren't you kind of warm?" Dave says.

"I've worn more cumbersome ensembles in warmer weather," Kurt says, waving a hand. He takes a sip of his drink, something electric green that smells fruity, and casts a critical eye over Dave's costume. “Clearly, you dressed for comfort.”

Dave laughs. His pirate costume is kind of lame without the hat, but he put the hat down two beers ago and he can’t remember where. The ragged pants and shirt are, yeah, pretty comfy, and he’s barefoot. It’s not like anybody’s looking.

Maybe it’s creepy, but he really likes that Kurt dressed up. He’s glad it’s not the Gaga outfit or anything crazy; the simple black costume says he planned to come, he made an effort, and he didn’t want to embarrass Dave in front of his new buddies.

“Aren’t your PJs comfy enough?” He gestures at Kurt’s costume. “And socks with sandals, that’s a new look for you.”

"They're tabi, you oaf," Kurt sniffs, but he’s smiling a little. “I thought this was appropriate, considering I’m sneaking around.”

“I hope you didn’t actually sneak out,” says Dave, a little alarmed. “Your dad would crush me.”

“Dad thinks I’m at the Hallowe’en party at Dalton, with Blaine.”

Dave raises an eyebrow. “And Blaine?” he asks, and immediately regrets it, because Kurt’s expression goes from wistful to slightly sour.

“Blaine,” he says slowly, rolling the bottle between his palms, “is at Dalton, pretending he’s missing me. Probably making out with Sebastian, by now.”

“Sebastian.” Dave blinks a few times. “Wait, that douchebag who hangs around Scandals? He’s sniffing around your boyfriend?”

“Oh, the sniffing’s mutual,” Kurt sighs. He props his chin on his hand. “I think he feels bad about it, but when I begged off going tonight, he lit up like a kid at Christmas.”

“Your boyfriend is going to a party with a predatory dude who’s into him,” Dave says, giving Kurt a long, considering look. “So you dressed up like a ninja and came to my house.”

Kurt takes a drink. “Put like that, it does sound ill-advised.”

“And you’re just, what, sitting here?” Dave is puzzled. He’s—okay, whoops, beer number five has just vanished, and he doesn’t drink all that much, so he probably is kind of drunk, maybe. Kurt being in his house, drinking one of the weird mixers the cheerleaders brought, that’s kind of amazing, but sitting around instead of doing something? That doesn’t sound like Kurt. “That’s not like you,” he says, figuring he might as well. “Aren’t you gonna go fight for your man or whatever?”

“He doesn’t want me to win him,” Kurt says. That bitter note in his voice, it’s awful. He sounds so resigned. “He wanted my part in the school musical, he got it; if he wants Sebastian, what the hell, right?”

Dave shakes his head. “No, that’s- Kurt.” His voice turns as serious as he can manage. “Sebastian, if that’s his name, has a stupid face, and he comes off as a smug prick, and Kurt, seriously, I know about smug pricks. He’s bad news. Blaine is a douche, but he’s gotta be a really stupid douche if he’s picking that guy over someone like you.”

He’s been looking across the room, sort of idly keeping an eye out to make sure nobody’s listening. He looks back at Kurt, and has to pause a moment; Kurt’s looking at him, eyes wide, mouth parted. He’s so beautiful that Dave has to look away again, fiddle with his empty bottle, pretend to take another sip. He can’t look at him like this.

Thankfully, there’s a crash from across the room- one of the linebackers and that cute guy from his Chem lab have managed to knock over one of the couches. “I’d better-” Dave says, and Kurt waves him off, sipping his drink.

Nothing’s damaged. Cute Guy (Dave really should learn his name) falls over himself apologising, but the couch is fine. They clear up the cups and the vase that got knocked off the sideboard. By the time Dave gets back, Kurt’s vanished. Not that Dave blames him- if some tipsy jerk started mouthing off at Dave, he’d walk too- but he misses him a little. He’d looked good, sitting in Dave’s living room like they were friends.

Dave wanders around for a while. Pretty much everyone’s drunk, and there are a whole lot of people he only kind of recognises, so he just drifts for a bit. People-watches. Nobody’s throwing up or breaking stuff, so eventually he figures he might just go to bed. It’s still early, but if he stays up he’ll just keep drinking.

Upstairs is quiet. He goes to the bathroom, washes his hands, and pads across the hall to his bedroom. The light is on. Kurt is sitting on his bed.

Dave shuts the door.

He knows he’s staring. It’s probably creepy, but come on: Kurt goddamn Hummel is in his bedroom, sitting cross-legged on his bed. His stupid sandals are on the floor, and he’s taking slow sips from another of those girly mixed drinks. This one is bright pink.

“I thought you left,” Dave says.

“Haven’t gone anywhere,” Kurt says. He’s not drunk, but he’s maybe tipsy. His eyes are a little red. “Been here the whole time.”

Moving slowly, Dave sits gingerly on the bed. “I didn’t think you drank.”

“Sometimes.” Kurt stretches. Dave tries really hard not to stare at the curve where his neck meets his shoulders. “I didn’t think I was going to sit alone in your bedroom while my boyfriend cheats on me with a guy named after a cartoon crab, but I guess that happens sometimes, too.” He tosses his phone to Dave. The text on the screen is from Blaine- _too late to drive home, crashing @ dalton. see you tomorrow! love you!_ \- and it came in twenty minutes ago.

“Kurt,” Dave says weakly. “It is kind of late, maybe he’s just crashing.”

“It’s the exclamation marks.” Kurt takes another drink. “They scream false enthusiasm, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry,” Dave says. He is. Blaine is a monumental idiot if he is cheating on Kurt, who looks like something out of Dave’s dreams, leaning back against the headboard. He’s gorgeous, even sad and red-eyed. Dave wants to drive to Dalton and punch Blaine in the face.

Kurt shrugs. “I’m not.”

Dave’s eyebrows go up. “You’re not?”

“Nope.” In one long swallow, Kurt drains the last of his ridiculous, fruity drink. He leans over, putting the empty bottle on Dave’s night stand. “You know what sex with Blaine is like?”

Feeling off-balance, Dave shakes his head.

“It’s nice.” He says it like he’s cursing. “Gentle and thorough. Didn’t hurt.” Jesus, now he’s picturing it- picturing Kurt getting fucked, oh God. The history between them makes it hard to imagine it being _nice_ , exactly. “He was very well-prepared,” Kurt says, looking at his hands. “Had everything planned. And it was.. it was enjoyable. And _nice_.”

Dave’s positive he’s pink to the ears. He can’t not. Kurt is _talking about sex_ , sitting in his bed. “You don’t have to tell me this.”

“He laughed at me.” Kurt’s flushed. Angry. “After, I... I said I wanted to try topping. Next time. And he laughed at me.”

Forget punching him in the face. If Dave ever sees Blaine again, he’s going to break his kneecaps. “Remember I said Blaine was a douche? Yeah, no. He’s a fucking asshole. Forget him.”

Kurt cocks his head, looking at him speculatively. “Forget him, huh?”

“Yes,” Dave says vehemently. “Cheating on you, that’s crazy, but making you feel shitty for wanting something? He’s definitely a fucking asshole.” He looks at Kurt. “You deserve someone who wants to try everything with you, not some prude jerk who _plans_ when and what stuff you do, instead of listening to what _you_ want.”

“Blaine’s not a prude,” Kurt says. “He was the one who wanted to,” he clears his throat. “To progress. Not that I didn’t. I just, I sort of expected that once we had, it would be... passionate? But it was like he had a to-do list.” He rolls his eyes. The gesture is so classically Kurt, it’s comforting to see. “Kissing, check. Foreplay, check. Sex, cuddling, ‘oh, sweetie, you’re so funny sometimes,' _check_.”

“Maybe if you talk to him?” Dave shrugs faintly. Personally, he wouldn’t give that guy the time of day, but Kurt’s a nicer guy than he is.

“He’s probably busy with _Sebastian_ ,” Kurt says. “I bet if _Sebastian_ offers to top, Blaine’ll trip over his tongue to bend over for him-”

Before he can stop himself, Dave’s reaching out to grab Kurt’s hand. He rubs a thumb over Kurt’s knuckles, looking up to meet his wide eyes. “Seriously, forget him,” he says, voice quiet. “You can do better. You deserve better.”

“Blaine keeps notebooks and hand sanitiser in his night stand,” Kurt says, idly. Dave freezes. “He doesn’t own any toys. He thinks they’re silly.” His eyes are glittering. He’s still holding Dave’s hand. “Not like you.”

If he thought he was blushing before, Dave must be scarlet now. He feels hot all over, because he knows what Kurt means. Kurt was in his room for almost half an hour before Dave came up; that’s more than long enough to have taken a peek in Dave’s bedside drawer. To have found Dave’s toys.

He doesn’t have, like, a lot. Or anything weird. The first time one of the guys at Scandals mentioned sex toys, he thought he was going to die of awkward; the conversation that followed ended up with half the bar in earnest discussion about what the had, what they liked, what was good. He’d gone home with a scribbled list of websites, and what felt like a permanent blush, and he—he made some purchases.

That same flush is creeping up his neck now, because Kurt is rolling onto one hip and sliding his bedside drawer open. Moving aside the sports magazines on top, Kurt picks up a little pile of things, dropping them on the bedspread between them.

“I’m impressed,” he says. Dave is comforted by the bright pink flush on his cheeks; he’s not laughing, or judging. Kurt picks up the biggest toy with two fingers, holding it up- _oh God_ , Dave thinks, _oh GOD, Kurt Hummel is touching my second favourite dildo_ \- and watches the glitter catch the light. “I don’t even know what some of these are for.”

“If you don’t know what that one does, I’m not surprised you and Blaine had problems,” Dave says, amazed at how even his voice sounds.

Kurt gives him a bitchy look. Only Kurt, Dave reflects, could look so disapproving while clutching a sparkly purple dildo. “I didn’t mean this one. What’s this little one for?” He puts down the dildo and picks up a glass plug. Also one of Dave’s favourites. Christ.

“Hummel, do I seriously have to explain what a buttplug is?” Dave mutters. Kurt looks from the plug to Dave, then back to the plug, and makes a little noise like _a-ha_. He puts the plug next to the purple dildo, and runs his fingers over the little array of Dave’s toys. The other dildo- Dave’s favourite, the white one with the ridges- catches his attention, then the smaller plug, the squat green vibrator, the cock rings. Dave’s inner monologue has more or less devolved into high-pitched screaming, and he’s quietly horrified to notice he’s more than a little bit turned on.

“Are these, um, speculative?” Kurt rubs behind one ear, expression vacant. “Do you- have you used them?”

Dave coughs.

Kurt seems to realise he’s running a finger up and down the length of the white dildo, and quickly folds his hands in his lap. “You. You have, and you like it?” Dave nods. Kurt bites his lip, face crimson. “That’s. Wow.”

“I’m not the one who wanted to drag my goodies all over the bed, Kurt,” Dave says, cranky. He’s embarrassed, sure, but jeez. “You’re lucky everything’s clean.”

Kurt laughs, high and short. “So if you and- if you had a boyfriend and he wanted to, you would do that?”

“Yeah,” says Dave. “Not exclusively, but yeah. I’d want him to.”

Kurt’s eyes squeeze shut, and he makes another little noise in the back of his throat. His hands twist on his thighs. When he opens his eyes, they’re dark, and they rake over Dave, taking in his flushed face, the rise and fall of his breath. The awkward, unconcealed bulge in his pants.

“And if it was me?” Kurt reaches out and runs his fingers down Dave’s bare arm. Dave shivers, and can’t help but lean into the touch. He can feel Kurt’s hands trembling; when he glances down, he can see the thin cotton of his costume tenting between his legs. “Would you let me fuck you, Dave?”

This time, it’s Dave who makes a sound, low, desperate. He should stop this. Say no. Tell Kurt to go home. But, Jesus, Kurt’s so hot like this, and Dave wants so much. He’s wondered what being fucked- fucked for real, not at his own hands- what that would be like. He wants to know.

Dave takes Kurt’s hand, threading their fingers together. “If it were you?” He licks his lips. “Yes.”

Kurt’s on him, fisting his hands in his stupid striped shirt, in seconds. The toys clatter off the bed, bouncing off the carpet, as Kurt crawls into Dave’s lap and kisses him. It’s a shame he’s still a little drunk, because the feel of Kurt’s body, the sticky fruity taste of his mouth, they’re amazing. Dizzying. He wants to remember this.

He works his hands up under the shirt of Kurt’s outfit, feeling his hot, smooth skin under his palms. Kurt wiggles in his lap, panting softly into the kiss. His weight is delicious, rocking against Dave’s cock. Honestly, he understands why Blaine wanted to fuck Kurt, but he can’t imagine what Blaine was thinking not wanting Kurt to fuck him.

Tugging at his clothes, Kurt pulls him up to lie on the bed, still kissing him. He pushes at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to put his hands on Dave’s skin, encouraging him to sit up so he can take his shirt off. They roll together, kissing and inching off one another’s clothes, until they’re down to skin, boxers and boxer briefs- Dave and Kurt, respectively. It’s bizarrely easy; comfortable, almost, to run his hands down Kurt’s bare back and be held close. Being mostly naked in front of Kurt, who’s slim and pale and lovely, that’s not so comfortable, but there’s no hesitation in Kurt’s hands, and he kisses like he’s trying to swallow Dave whole.

“Whoa, hey,” Dave says, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Slow down.”

“You want to stop?” Kurt nibbles the shell of his ear.

“No, I want you to _slow down_ ,” he huffs. “I’m enjoying this. I’d like to enjoy it long enough to do something, if that’s okay.”

“Sorry,” Kurt says. He doesn’t sound it. “I’m enjoying myself too. And enjoying you.”

Dave wrinkles his nose. “That’s really cheesy.”

“It’s true, though.” Kurt sits back, rubbing a palm up Dave’s chest. “I was sort of hoping something would happen tonight.”

Dave makes a scandalised face. “Is this a booty call?”

For a moment, Kurt is silent. Then he buries his face in Dave’s neck. “I was about to make a pirate booty joke,” he says. “What have I become?”

Laughing, Dave kisses him again. “I’m a bad influence,” he says, letting Kurt push him onto his back to straddle him. He feels a little stupid, big and ungainly between Kurt’s thighs. The look on Kurt’s face, that’s awesome- hungry and intrigued. His hands won’t stop moving, curling over Kurt’s hips.

“Naked is a good look for you,” Kurt muses.

“Not naked yet,” Dave breathes. The rub of his boxers against his dick is just this side of torturous, and now he’s paying attention. He shifts his hips to ease the pressure a little, but all that does is rub his cock up against the bulge in Kurt’s boxer briefs. “I’m liking nearly-naked on you, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Kurt smirks. Like the eye-roll, the expression is so _Kurt_ it makes something in Dave’s chest feel warm. “So I shouldn’t take off my underwear?”

“You should definitely take off your underwear,” says Dave, voice low and response quick. He nudges Kurt back, edging his fingers up Kurt’s thighs. Kurt touches his hands, helps him peel his underwear down and off, and leans back. Naked, he’s pale all over, long-limbed and gorgeous, his cock flushed and laying heavy against his thigh. There’s not an inch of him Dave doesn’t want to put his mouth on. Kurt wiggles his shoulders, posing like a model, giggling when Dave wolf-whistles.

“David,” he says. “As charming as your Jolly Roger boxers are-” and that’s all the hint Dave needs; he lifts his butt and pulls them off, tossing them off the bed. They are pretty cool boxers, but the slide of Kurt’s legs against his as he scoots closer is better. It’s better than pretty much anything. When they kiss again, Dave’s skin tingles everywhere their skin touches. Kurt makes the best noises- warm, soft and wordless. “I meant it, you know,” Kurt murmurs. “I do want to fuck you.”

“Ngh,” says Dave. “You can’t just say shit like that, fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not the plan.” Kurt kisses his throat, sucks a little, flicks his tongue. “Turn over?”

Dave scrambles to get on his stomach, not letting Kurt’s hands on him distract him- not that that’s easy. Kurt’s touching him like he doesn’t know how to stop, hands busy, running over his back, his shoulders, his hips. His ass is bare and oh god, Kurt can see his bare ass, Kurt is _touching_ his _ass_ , what is his life. He’s terrified- Kurt’s going to freak out, Kurt thinks he’s hideous, he’s too big, too hairy to touch and enjoy- but he feels amazing, too, because Kurt isn’t freaking out. Kurt is stroking his long fingers up the backs of Dave’s thighs, his breath gusting over Dave’s back. He nudges Dave’s legs apart, kissing down Dave’s spine, and he nuzzles open-mouthed at the dip of his lower back.

“God, you.” Kurt’s teeth graze Dave’s skin, shivery-sharp. “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”

“Like some idiot with his ass in the air?” Dave looks back over his shoulder, taking in Kurt on his knees behind him. His face feels bright red.

“Not exactly.” Kurt chuckles. “Do you have condoms?”

“In the back, on the left,” Dave says.

Kurt rifles through the drawer, fishing out the unopened box. “How about these?” He turns the box over in his hands. “Practical or speculative?”

Dave swallows. “Speculative.”

“So you haven’t? With anyone?”

“Just me and my stash.” Dave attempts a grin. Kurt licks his lips, nods thoughtfully, and carefully tears open the plastic wrap. Dave burrows his face between his pillows, listening to Kurt fiddle with the condoms, grab the lube, settle back between Dave’s legs.

“I haven’t done this part before,” Kurt says, voice high with nerves. “Not, uh, first-hand.”

“Dumber people than us have managed this, Hummel,” Dave grumbles. “We’ll be fine.”

Huffing a laugh, Kurt snaps open the lube. The first touch of a wet fingertip between his cheeks surprises a jump out of Dave; he has to bite his tongue to keep from giggling as it’s wiggled against his hole, lightly probing. He rolls his shoulders to shake out some tension.

Kurt pushes his index finger in, slow. His fingers are slimmer than Dave’s, so it’s less intense than he’s used to, but the burn is- Jesus, it’s good, someone else touching him. Kurt’s obviously new at this; he’s not being shy or whatever, that’s definitely his finger stuck up Dave’s ass, but it takes him a minute to get the angles right. By the time Kurt’s building a rhythm, Dave’s shifting, arching back.

“Come on, another one,” Dave says.

“Are you sure?” Kurt sounds breathless. “You’re still really tight.”

“Yes,” Dave groans. “Yes, come on, more.”

Kurt makes a pained noise, but he snaps open the lube again, and wets a second finger to press against Dave’s hole, more insistent this time. Dave tries to remember the good stuff he knows, like bearing down and not just shoving back onto Kurt’s fingers, but for now all he can do is shudder and clench and bite his lip. This is the part Dave likes. He’s never been flexible enough to get a lot of friction happening, but that first real push is what makes him shake, every time. Kurt moves his fingers faster, probing deeper, and Dave’s helpless to do much else but drop his head and take it.

“Oh my god,” Kurt mutters, voice gone rough. “God, you’re just- there is no earthly reason for this to be _this_ hot.”

“I don’t know, dude,” Dave grunts, muffled, spreading his legs further. “It’s pretty fucking hot from where I am.”

“Yes, but I have my fingers in your ass,” says Kurt. Dave would bet money he’s blushing. “Pretty sure this isn’t the sexy part.”

“Trust me,” says Dave. He’s panting and sweating already just from this. “It’s sexy. Now shut up and give me a third one.”

There’s no argument this time; Kurt just slides his fingers out, slicks them up, and presses back in. Three is a little bit more awkward, though lube and the twisting thing Kurt’s doing with his wrist is helping. Three is wider than Dave’s toys, or feels like it- it stings a little, but it’s so full, and the friction is amazing. Dave can only imagine what he looks like.

Kurt drops his left hand to wrap around Dave’s cock, and Dave lets out a noise that borders on inhuman, because _come on_. Kurt’s hand is on his dick, Kurt’s fingers are steadily fucking him open, and Kurt’s mouth is restless on the small of his back, licking and nuzzling and nipping at his skin.

He has to breathe through his nose to keep it together. When he does this alone, with a toy in his ass and a hand on his cock, he’d be coming by now- he’s not a patient guy, he can’t tease himself- and while the idea of coming under Kurt’s hands has him dangerously close to doing just that, he wants. He really wants Kurt to fuck him.

“Stop,” he chokes out, and Kurt stops still. “You need to stop, or I’m gonna come.” Kurt lets out another of those pained whines, teeth digging into the patch of skin he’s working over. Dave hisses. “Not helping either.”

“Can I?” Kurt licks over the bite, fingers feathering slowly over Dave’s cock. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Dave groans. “C’mon, do it.”

It feels like a goddamn glacial age passes, like Kurt’s taking his time unwrapping the condom and putting it on. As if this is really the time to draw it out, fuck. Dave shifts his weight a little, impatient, and then Kurt’s hand is back, smoothing over his hip.

“Are you ready?” Kurt murmurs.

“Would you please just fuck me already,” Dave grits out. There’s another agonising pause, and then at last, at _last_ , Kurt nudges the head of his cock against Dave’s ass. The first couple of pushes are awkward and tentative; real dick is less rigid than rubber, and it takes Kurt a minute to work out how hard to push, but Kurt’s a quick study. His fingers dig into Dave’s hips as he works his cock in, strokes short and unsteady. When he bottoms out, his head drops between Dave’s shoulder blades, face pressing against his back, breathing hard.

“It’s so,” he pants, whining in the back of his throat. “God, you’re so tight. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I need you to not stop,” Dave says. He hadn’t got a real detailed look at Kurt’s dick before, but it had looked, like, normal. High end of average, maybe. It’s not as big as his purple dildo, even, so maybe it’s the lack of control making it feel so overwhelming; Dave can’t predict exactly when Kurt’s going to move, or how. He just has to take it. “No, seriously, move. Please.”

Kurt snorts, but he doesn’t bitch; he just grabs at Dave’s waist and moves, sliding out and back in, deeper this time. Dave doesn’t mind. He arches his back, groaning, unsure if he wants to press back into Kurt’s cock or up into Kurt’s teeth where they scrape over his shoulders. Kurt’s mouth moves like he’s hungry for the taste of Dave’s skin, licking, sucking. Every brush of his tongue makes Dave feel hot and shivery, and the sting of his teeth- it hurts, and feels awesome, and isn’t enough.

“Harder,” he says, blushing hot- who says that, in real life? Honestly? Kurt moans and snaps his hips, and that’s good, too, but it’s not what Dave meant. “No, like- the biting. _Harder_.”

Kurt doesn’t stop moving, but he does slow down. “You want me to bite you, David?”

“You’re already biting me,” Dave grumbles. “Come on, Kurt, stop teasing.”

Kurt’s mouth drops to Dave’s shoulder. He trails his lips up his neck, breathes hotly in his ear, nips at the lobe. For a minute Dave thinks he’s going to keep fucking around, but he skims his tongue back down the tendons of Dave’s neck, opens his mouth over the swell of his shoulder, and bites down. Dave twists under the sting of it, but Kurt doesn’t let go; he laves his tongue over the skin between his teeth and sucks, worrying the spot until Dave’s gasping. He lifts his mouth, licks, nuzzles his way over to a spot further down Dave’s back, and bites down again.

After that, it’s a blur of thrusting and biting, Kurt pressing down on him, Kurt’s cock, pushing into him, Kurt’s mouth hot and sharp on his neck. Just as his knees are threatening to give up, Kurt suddenly seems to remember that hey, Dave has a dick too, and he wraps his right hand around it, using his left to yank Dave back against him. He strokes once, twice, and his rhythm falters as he shudders and growls against Dave’s back, fingers clenching around Dave’s cock. Dave bats his hand away to jerk himself, only getting in a few pumps of his hand before he’s coming too, grunting and clenching, eyes squeezing shut.

The arm holding him folds under him, so Dave just follows it down, lets himself sag down on the bed. His sheets are a wreck. Kurt stretches, wincing, and eases his cock out, gently as he can. He flops next to Dave on the bed, sighing.

Dave rolls onto his back. He hurts everywhere. His hamstrings burn, his ass is sore- shocker- and his shoulders and the back of his neck feel like a roadmap of bright spots of pain that are probably spectacular hickeys. He feels fantastic. Beside him, he dimly registers Kurt moving around, disposing of the condom, tidying up, and then curling closer, half-laying across Dave’s chest.

“That was,” Kurt says, “well. Nice isn’t exactly the word.”

“Not the word I’d use.” Dave rolls his shoulders, wincing as his joints pop.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“A little.’ Dave shrugs. “I liked it, though. No big deal.”

“We just had sex, Dave,” Kurt says, soft, serious. “It is a big deal. At least, I’d like it to be a big deal.”

Dave looks at him. Kurt’s got his chin propped on Dave’s chest, looking up at him earnestly. “You’re still dating Blaine.”

“You think Blaine is fucking asshole,” says Kurt primly. “I’m not proposing or anything, but if you could wait, if you still wanted to, I don’t know- try? After I dump Blaine and observe an appropriate mourning period, of course.”

“Of course,” Dave echoes, distantly. “I, huh. I think I could wait. For that. For you. Trying, or whatever.”

Kurt hums, a pleased sound. Below them, the sounds of the party are winding down. Dave’s going to be cleaning like crazy tomorrow, no doubt, and he’ll have to wash these sheets, too. He’s cuddling with a guy who has a boyfriend- a guy he just _slept with_ , who has a boyfriend- and his back is a constellation of mouth-shaped bruises. He’s got plenty to panic about, but it’s hard to worry with Kurt warm and sleepy in his arms. He’s too worn out and feels too good to freak out now, so instead of freaking out, he nuzzles his nose into Kurt’s hair and nudges their legs together. Snuggling seems like a better idea.


End file.
